


raising up the ante

by ennaih (aquandrian)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I can't help it, Prompt Fill, Shameless Smut, Smut, also snuggling in the aftermath, cos they do that, with no redeeming features whatsoever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquandrian/pseuds/ennaih
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jyn Erso takes a conference call. The Director is otherwise occupied ... under the desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	raising up the ante

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onstraysod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onstraysod/gifts).



> A prompt I got through Tumblr Messenger because some people are the actual worst.
> 
> I thought "That's fine, I can do that in a couple of paragraphs, it'll be fine."
> 
> I should know better by now.
> 
> Title from _Babe You Turn Me On_ by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
> 
> This could be considered part of the Death Trooper AU except I'm not sure what rank Jyn is as a Death Trooper and if anyone else actually knows what she looks like in that verse. So maybe not. Either way, you choose.

“General Erso,” says the startled face on the holonet channel. “ I was expecting --”

Jyn Erso shifts in the Director’s chair, wincing a little. “The Director has been called away to a meeting. He --” her voice catches, skin turning a little pink -- “I have been instructed to take your report. Please begin, Commandant.”

She’s not supposed to be ordering commandants around. He knows that just as well, a slight twitch of distaste betrays it. But the Director’s orders are never questioned. There is always a reason and a method to his instructions, even if they seem like whimsy or outright lunacy at first. The Director of the Imperial Army has proved his brilliance, and all this passes visibly through the commandant’s mind before he looks down at his notes and starts to speak.

Jyn isn’t paying any attention. Or rather, she focuses very hard on looking like she’s paying attention. She can’t look at the man’s face so she looks at the corner of the screen, aware that she’s gripping the arms of the chair very hard out of his line of sight. It’s supposed to be a report on the resources of a mining planet, something crucial to the agenda of the Imperial Army and particular to the Advanced Weapons Research Division, for the Director’s particular information.

The Director is currently pressing Jyn’s bare thighs apart with his gloved hands and lazily licking up the furrow of her cunt. And she knows, she just knows that if she looks down, his mischievous blue grey eyes will be sparkling up at her. So she breathes in and tries to keep her expression neutral as the commandant drones on and the devious man between her thighs presses a curious leather thumb against her clit hood. If she squeaks at that, the commandant doesn’t hear. She’s shaking a little, wanting to slide down in the chair and press her cunt against Krennic’s stupid clever face, against his clever investigating tongue. Oh god, his tongue. She wants to arch, breasts up, and brace a hand over her head against the back of the chair. She wants to wrap her legs around his head and fuck his awful beautiful face.

Instead she swallows and creeps her hand down below the edge of the desk. The commandant turns or swipes a page in his report. And she gets a fistful of silver brown hair, pulls hard. Krennic nips at the inside crease of her thigh, sharp unforgiving teeth, and she gasps, glancing down automatically. He shakes his head a little at her, indulgent and so very wicked. Oh he’s a bad bad man and she adores him so much her heart pulses in her chest at the way he grins up at her.

The commandant clears his throat. Jyn snaps her attention back to him, cursing all men in that moment frankly. He resumes his narrative, satisfied that she’s watching again. And Jyn stifles a moan deep in her throat because Krennic has two gloved fingers pushing into her cunt now, opening her up for his tongue. He’s so fucking greedy and he makes her greedy too, wanting him to smear his face in all her fragrant wetness, wanting him to tip her up and lick down between her bottom, wanting him to taste it all and own her thoroughly. 

His elbow jolts against her calf, and it’s then she realises he’s got the sleek white coat undone, the silver belt hanging at his side. He groans a little into her dark secret hair, his arm moving, and she goes so hot she must be really pink now. He’s got his cock out under the desk, the Director of the Imperial Army on his knees, tugging at his own hard cock as he eats her out. It makes her clutch harder at his untidy hair, pulling him closer. Her cunt feels full, aching and juicy, throbbing with the outrageous invasion of his wet tongue, throbbing with the way he sucks and sucks on her clit, his fingers fucking her in short relentless jabs. Oh god she wants to hit him and hurt him in return, wants him to suffer as hard as she is right now with this moronic commandant droning on and Krennic so hellbent on making her come, making her come all over his smug face.

Jyn gasps and hits the comm link. The image snaps off, she reels back in the chair, Krennic already emerging swift and intent from under the desk. She has barely enough time to see how hard and red his cock is before he yanks her forward and around, eyes cruel silver blue. Jyn’s hands catch her weight on the desk, knocking things askew. And then she’s crying out because he’s driven his cock up into her, fucking her deep and brutal. Her thighs are grazing against the sharp edge of the desk, his chest right up against her back, and his cock head is hitting her sweet spot with unerring relentless accuracy. He had figured out very quickly how to fuck her just right, how to fuck her into coming over and over again on his cock. Sometimes she hates him for that ruthless efficiency but mostly she’s too busy screaming and coming.

Now he reaches over her shoulder, pausing for a moment. “What are you doing?” she gasps, appalled.

“You know,” Krennic replies. And Jyn stares with utter horror as the holonet channel flickers to life. “Just audio,” he says, a slight heat creeping into his voice, and nuzzles her ear. She moans, seeking his mouth, loving the way his voice vibrates into her. As the call connects, she pushes back on his cock and tells him, “You’re such a pervert.” Krennic hums happily in response and, unsurprisingly, starts to fuck her again the moment the commandant’s voice sounds. “General Erso.”

Jyn gasps, a carnal pretty sound that she knows Krennic loves. “General, my -- my apologies. Please continue.”

Krennic pushes her down on the desk as he fucks her faster. Her hot face against the smooth surface, she bites down on the moans, catching the excitement off him, this terribly illicit thrill of being caught and discovered any moment, the utter disrespect of this secret rebellion. Because he’s a mercurial bastard, he changes his mind and pulls her up against his chest, hot ragged breath against her ear, and pulls open her shirt, wanting to get at her breasts. She wants it too, dragging the rim of her singlet down so he can seize at her bare nipples, covering her breasts with his hands, and force her back down again.

“General Erso?”

“Yes,” Jyn snaps. “I hear you, General. What --” a particularly vicious thrust makes her nearly swallow her tongue -- “what’s your conclusion?”

Krennic pinches at her nipples, making her want to crack her head back against his face, and leans down to whisper in her ear. “He’s not done yet. Neither am I.” Jyn growls under her breath, cunt clenching around his cock. 

The commandant launches into some insufferable paragraph. And Jyn braces herself against the desk, takes control of the rhythm, and hears Krennic gasp as she fucks back on his cock, fucks him so hard he can only hold onto her hips, the heat of him fierce through their clothes, his breath a ragged storm. She can make him come, she knows exactly how, he’s not the only talented fuck in this relationship. But then he reaches one hand down between her thighs, and his devious fingers find the fierce throb of her clit, and she wants to howl because when they fight like this, when they sex like this, he always has to win. He fights fucking dirty. And she forgets everything and cries out like any shameless animal as she comes and comes, her fingers curling into the chaos of the disarrayed desk, one cold nipple rubbing against the surface, the other trapped in the heat of his hand, her cunt seizing and seizing around his cock. As he dragged her orgasm from her, she drags his from him, the way his gloved fingers dig into her flesh and he shudders all through his spine, his beautiful voice all hoarse and ripped up on that long groan as he comes and comes inside her, hot spunk all the way up inside her.

They’ve quite forgotten about the commandant gone silent on the other end of the holonet channel. Krennic has covered Jyn with his warm heavy body, his face in her hair, his arms curved up against the desk, cradling the heat of them. Her heart is pounding against the bones of her chest, pounding just out of sync with his heart against her back. 

“General Erso?” the commandant says with a distinct note of disapproval. It’s such an appalled distasteful tone that both Jyn and Krennic start to shake with silent laughter. Tears in her eyes, Jyn pushes up. As the Director falls back into his chair, looking ridiculously boyish with his wide curving smile and bright eyes and wild hair, she swipes playfully at his arm and turns back to the holonet speaker. “Yes, General. The Director will be informed of your report. Thank you. You’ll be contacted when required.” She manages to disconnect the call just as Krennic scoots his chair forward and pulls her into his lap. 

“The Director thoroughly enjoyed that report,” he murmurs into her hair.

“I never guessed,” Jyn says lightly, snuggling against him. She looks at his face, loving every crease and crinkle around his eyes, loving the line by his mouth. “Do you think we traumatised him very much?”

Krennic strokes the back of his hand against her cheek, the sleek leather fragrant with their sex, his eyes tender for a long moment before he replies. “Please,” he says with perfect irony. “I have files on his sexual activities that make us look like virgins in comparison.”

“Ew!” she exclaims. “Also, no, no, we can’t have that! What sort of activities?”

He refuses to tell her and she spends several hours pestering and seducing him for answers. It’s enormous fun for both of them. Eventually Krennic admits he lied and that the commandant was suitably vanilla compared to them. Jyn is satisfied with this.

**Author's Note:**

> The message I received: _Also I have a prompt for you, but I'm too ashamed to put it in your inbox, so here it is: *clears throat, hangs head*_  
>  _Krennic going down on Jyn. Preferably in a situation or at a time that is inopportune, where she has to keep her composure and... "suffer" through it as best she can._  
>  _I'm the worst._
> 
> To which I said, "Yes, you ARE the worst." Cos like I can resist Krennic going down on Jyn. 
> 
> You have no idea how much I wanted to make that Commandant Brendol Hux.


End file.
